The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont

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they taught me a good deal about religion which I had not knownpreviously. Blanche would read aloud the most touching andbeautiful passages from the Bible; and even as I write I can recallher pale, earnest face, with its pathetic expression and her low,musical voice, as she dwelt upon passages likely to console andstrengthen us in our terrible position. The quiet littlediscussions we had together on theological subjects settled, onceand for all, many questions that had previously vexed me a greatdeal.

Both girls were devoted adherents of the Church of England, andcould repeat most of the Church services entirely from memory.They wanted to do a little missionary work among the blacks, but Igently told them I thought this inadvisable, as any rupture in ourfriendly relations with the natives would have been quite fatal--ifnot to our lives, at least to our chances of reaching civilisation.Moreover, my people were not by any means without a kind ofreligion of their own. They believed in the omnipotence of a GreatSpirit in whose hands their destinies rested; and him theyworshipped with much the same adoration which Christians give toGod. The fundamental difference was that the sentiment animatingthem was not LOVE, but FEAR: propitiation rather than adoration.

We sang the usual old hymns at our Sunday services, and I soonlearned to sing them myself. On my part, I taught the girls suchsimple hymns as the one commencing "Une nacelle en silence," whichI had learnt at Sunday-school in Switzerland. It is interesting tonote that this was Bruno's favourite air. Poor Bruno! he took moreor less kindly to all songs--except the Swiss jodellings, which hesimply detested. When I started one of these plaintive dittiesBruno would first protest by barking his loudest, and if Ipersisted, he would simply go away in disgust to some place wherehe could not hear the hated sounds. On Sunday evening we generallyheld a prayer-service in the hut, and at such times offered up mostfervent supplications for delivery.

Often I have seen these poor girls lifting up their whole souls inprayer, quite oblivious for the moment of their surroundings, untilrecalled to a sense of their awful positions by the crash of anunusually large wave on the rocks.

The girls knew no more of Australian geography than I did; and whenI mention that I merely had a vague idea that the great cities ofthe continent--Sydney, Adelaide, Perth, and Melbourne--all lay in asoutherly direction, you may imagine how dense was my ignorance ofthe great island. I am now the strongest possible advocate of asound geographical training in schools.

On ordinary days we indulged in a variety of games, the principalone being a form of "rounders." I made a ball out of opossum skin,stuffed with the light soft bark of the paper-tree, and stitchedwith gut. We used a yam-stick to strike it with. My native womenattendants often joined in the fun, and our antics provided a vastamount of amusement for the rest of the tribe. The girls taught mecricket, and in due time I tried to induce the blacks to play theBritish national game, but with little success. We made thenecessary bats and stumps out of hard acacia, which I cut down withmy tomahawk. The natives themselves, however, made bats muchbetter than mine, simply by whittling flat their waddies; and theysoon became expert batsmen. But unfortunately they failed to seewhy they should run after the ball, especially when they hadknocked it a very great distance away. Running about in thismanner, they said, was only fit work for women, and was quitebeneath their dignity. Yamba and I fielded, but soon foundourselves unequal to the task, owing to the enormous distances wehad to travel in search of the ball. Therefore we soon abandonedthe cricket, and took up football, which was very much moresuccessful.

We had a nice large football made of soft goose-skin stuffed withthe paper bark; and in considering our game you must always bear inmind that boots or footgear of any kind were quite unknown. Thegreat drawback of football, from the native point of view, was thatit entailed so much exertion, which could be otherwise expended ina far more profitable and practical manner. They argued that ifthey put the exertion requisite for a game of football into a huntfor food, they would have enough meat to last them for many days.It was, of course, utterly impossible to bring them round to myview of sports and games. With regard to the abandoned cricket,they delighted in hitting the ball and in catching it--oh! theywere wonderfully expert at this--but as to running after the ball,this was quite impossible.

About this time the girls showed me the steps of an Irish jig,which I quickly picked up and soon became quite an adept, much tothe delight of the natives, who never tired of watching mygyrations. I kept them in a constant state of wonderment, so thateven my very hair--now about three feet long--commanded theirrespect and admiration!

Sometimes I would waltz with the younger girl, whilst her sisterwhistled an old familiar air. When I danced, the blacks wouldsquat in a huge circle around me; those in the front rank keepingtime by beating drums that I had made and presented to them. Thebodies of the drums were made from sections of trees which I foundalready hollowed out by the ants. These wonderful little insectswould bore through and through the core of the trunk, leaving onlythe outer shell, which soon became light and dry. I then scrapedout with my tomahawk any of the rough inner part that remained, andstretched over the ends of each section a pair of the thinnestwallaby skins I could find; these skins were held taut by sinewsfrom the tail of a kangaroo. I tried emu-skins for the drum-heads,but found they were no good, as they soon became perforated when Iscraped them.

Never a day passed but we eagerly scanned the glistening sea in thehope of sighting a passing sail. One vessel actually came rightinto our bay from the north, but she suddenly turned right back onthe course she had come. She was a cutter-rigged vessel, painted agreyish-white, and of about fifty tons burden. She was probably aGovernment vessel--possibly the Claud Hamilton, a South Australianrevenue boat stationed at Port Darwin--as she flew the Britishensign at the mast-head; whereas a pearler would have flown it atthe peak. The moment we caught sight of that ship I am afraid welost our heads. We screamed aloud with excitement, and ran likemad people up and down the beach, waving branches and yelling likemaniacs. I even waved wildly my long, luxuriant hair.Unfortunately, the wind was against us, blowing from the WSW. Wewere assisted in our frantic demonstration by quite a crowd ofnatives with branches; and I think it possible that, even if we hadbeen seen, the people on the ship would have mistaken our effortsfor a more hostile demonstration.

When it was too late, and the ship almost out of sight, I suddenlyrealised that I had made another fatal mistake in having the blackswith me. Had I and the two girls been alone on the beach I feelsure the officers of the ship would have detected our white skinsthrough their glasses. But, indeed, we may well have escapednotice altogether.

There was a terrible scene when the supposed Government vesselturned back on her course and passed swiftly out of sight. Thegirls threw themselves face downwards on the beach, and wept wildlyand hysterically in the very depths of violent despair. I cannever hope to tell you what a bitter and agonising experience itwas--the abrupt change from delirious excitement at seeing a shipsteering right into our bay, to the despairing shock of beholdingit turn away from us even quicker than it came.

CHAPTER XII

The girls in sun-bonnets--I advise the blacks--Fatal excitement--Last moments--The catastrophe--I cannot realise it--A fearfulcontrast--"Only a withered flower"--Bruno's grief--Steering by theant-hills--Avoiding the forests--Myriads of rats--The flowing ofthe tide--Rats and the native children--Clouds of locusts--Fishfrom the clouds.

The weeks gradually grew into months, and still we were apparentlyno nearer civilisation than ever. Again and again we madeexpeditions to see whether it were possible for the girls to reachPort Darwin overland; but, unfortunately, I had painted for them insuch vivid colours the tortures of thirst which I had undergone onmy journey towards Cape York, that they were always afraid to leavewhat was now their home to go forth unprovided into the unknown.Sometimes a fit of depression so acute would come over them, thatthey would shut themselves up in their room and not show themselvesfor a whole day.

We had a very plentiful supply of food, but one thing the girlsmissed very much was milk,--which of course, was an unheard-ofluxury in these regions. We had a fairly good substitute, however,in a certain creamy and bitter-tasting juice which we obtained froma palm-tree. This "milk," when we got used to it, we foundexcellent when used with the green corn. The corn-patch wascarefully fenced in from kangaroos, and otherwise taken care of;and I may here remark that I made forks and plates of wood for myfair companions, and also built them a proper elevated bed, withfragrant eucalyptus leaves and grass for bedding. For the coldnights there was a covering of skin rugs, with an overall quiltmade from the wild flax.

The girls made themselves sun-bonnets out of palm-leaves; whiletheir most fashionable costume was composed of the skins of birdsand marsupials, cunningly stitched together by Yamba. During thecold winter months of July and August we camped at a more shelteredspot, a little to the north, where there was a range of mountains,whose principal peak was shaped like a sugar-loaf.

I frequently accompanied the warriors on their fightingexpeditions, but did not use my stilts, mainly because we neveragain met so powerful an enemy as we had battled with on thatmemorable occasion. My people were often victorious, but once ortwice we got beaten by reason of the other side having drawn firstblood. My natives took their reverses with a very good grace, andwere never very depressed or inclined to view me with less favourbecause of their want of success. We were always the best offriends, and I even ventured gradually to wean them fromcannibalism.

I knew they ate human flesh, not because they felt hungry, butbecause they hoped to acquire the additional valour of the warriorthey were eating. I therefore diplomatically pointed out to themthat, in the first place, all kinds of dreadful diseases which thedead man might have had would certainly be communicated to them,and in this I was providentially borne out by a strange epidemic.The second consideration I mentioned was that by making anklets,bracelets, and other ornaments out of the dead braves' hair, theycould acquire for themselves in a much more efficacious manner thevalour and other estimable qualities of the departed warrior.

Whilst I was on this subject I also advised them strongly andimpressively never wantonly to attack white men, but rather to makefriendly advances towards them. I often wonder now whetherexplorers who follow in my track will notice the absence ofcannibalism and the friendly overtures of the natives.

Two half painful, half merry years, passed by. We had seen severalships passing out at sea, and on more than one occasion Yamba andI, taught by previous lessons, had jumped into our canoe and pulledfor many miles in the direction of the sail, leaving the girlswatching us eagerly from the shore. But it was always useless, andwe were compelled to return without having accomplished ourpurpose; we merely inflicted additional pain on ourselves.

I now come to what is possibly the most painful episode of mycareer, and one which I find it impossible to discuss, or writeabout, without very real pain. Even at this distance of time Icannot recall that tragic day without bitter tears coming into myeyes, and being afflicted with a gnawing remorse which can nevercompletely die in my heart. Do not, I beg of you, in consideringmy actions, ask me why I did not do this, or that, or the other.In terrible crises I believe we become almost mechanical, and arenot responsible for what we do. I have often thought that, apartfrom our own volition, each set of nerves and fibres in our beinghas a will of its own.

Well, one gloriously fine day we sighted a ship going very slowlyacross the gulf, several miles away. Would to God we had neverseen her! We were thrown, as usual, into a perfect frenzy of wildexcitement, and the girls dashed here and there like peoplepossessed. Of course, I determined to intercept the vessel ifpossible, and the girls at once expressed their intention of comingwith me. I attempted earnestly to dissuade them from this, butthey wept pitifully and implored me to let them come. They werefilled with an ungovernable longing to get away--the same longing,perhaps, that animates a caged bird who, although well fed andkindly treated, soars away without a moment's hesitation when anopportunity occurs. Quite against my better judgment, I let themcome. Every second was precious and every argument futile. WhileYamba was getting ready the canoe I rushed from one group ofnatives to the other, coaxing, promising, imploring. I pointed outto them that they could propel their catamarans faster than I couldpaddle my canoe; and I promised them that if I reached the ship Iwould send them presents from the white man's land of tomahawks andknives; gaily coloured cloths and gorgeous jewellery. But theywere only too ready to help me without any of these inducements;and in an incredibly short time at least twenty catamarans, eachcontaining one or two men, put off from the shore in my wake andmade directly towards the ship, whilst I struck off at a tangent soas to head her off. I now see that without doubt we must havepresented a very formidable appearance to the people on the vesselas we paddled over the sunlit seas, racing one another, yelling,and gesticulating like madmen. Of course, the people on boardquite naturally thought they were being attacked by a savageflotilla. But in the excitement of the moment I never gave this athought. Had I only left my faithful natives behind all might havebeen well. Yamba and I kept the canoe well ahead, and we reachedthe neighbourhood of the ship first.

As we approached, the excitement of the girls was painful towitness. They could scarcely contain themselves for joy; and as Iforcibly prevented them from standing up in the frail canoe, theycontented themselves with frantically waving their hands andscreaming themselves hoarse.

Nearing the vessel I was surprised to see the top-sail beinghoisted, but, strange to say, the crew kept well out of sight.This was easy to do, considering the spread of canvas. She was nota Malay vessel, being decidedly of European rig. She was only asmall craft, of perhaps ten or fifteen tons, with one mast carryinga main-sail and stay-sail, in addition to the top-sail that hadbeen hoisted as we approached. To us, however, she was a "ship."We were now about one hundred and fifty yards away, and I suddenlyleapt to my feet and coo-eed several times. Still no one showedhimself, and not a soul was visible on board. My own joyfulexcitement speedily turned to heart-sickness, alarm, and eventerror. By this time the flotilla of catamarans was close behindme; and just as I was about to sit down and take to my paddleagain, so as to advance still closer to the vessel, the loud reportof a gun was heard; and then--well, what followed next isexceedingly difficult for me to describe accurately. Whether I waswounded by the shot, or whether the girls suddenly stood up,causing me to lose my balance and fall on the side of the canoe andcut my thigh, I do not know.

At any rate, I crashed heavily overboard in spite of Yamba'sdesperate attempt to save me. The next moment I had forgotten allabout the ship, and was only conscious of Yamba swimming close bymy side, and occasionally gripping my long hair when she thought Iwas going under. We righted the canoe and climbed in as quickly aswe could. I think I was dazed and incapable of any coherentthought. As I collapsed in the bottom of the canoe, I suddenlyrealised that Yamba and I were alone; and sitting up, I gasped,"The girls, the girls! Where are they? Oh, where are they? Wemust save them!"

Alas! they had sunk beneath the smiling waves, and they never roseagain. True, they were expert swimmers, but I suppose the terribleexcitement, followed by the sudden shock, was too much for them,and as they sank for the first time they probably clung to eachother in the embrace of death. God knows best. Perhaps it wasbetter that He should take my loved ones from me than that theyshould be dragged through the terrible years that followed.

But for a long time I utterly refused to believe that my darlingswere lost--they were truly as sisters to me; and Yamba and I andthe natives dived for them time after time, searching the sea inevery direction. But at length, seeing that I was exhausted, Yambaforcibly detained me, and told me that I myself would inevitablydrown if I went into the water again. The wound in my thigh (I amuncertain to this day whether it was the result of the gun-shot ormere collision with the rough gunwale of the canoe) was bleedingfreely; and as it was also pointed out to me that there was a verystrong and swift current at this spot, I allowed myself to be takenaway without any further opposition.

I simply COULD not realise my bereavement. It seemed too terribleand stunning to think, that when God had provided me with these twocharming companions, who were all in all to me every moment of myexistence, as a consolation for the horrors I had gone through--itseemed impossible, I say, that they should be snatched from me justat the very moment when salvation seemed within our reach. Everydetail of the incident passed before my mental vision, but I couldnot grasp it--I could not seem to think it real. I can neverexplain it. These poor girls were more to me than loving sisters.They turned the black night of my desolate existence into sunshine,and they were perpetually devising some sweet little surprise--somelittle thing which would please me and add additional brightness toour daily lives. This dreadful thing happened many years ago, butto this day, and to the day of my death, I feel sure I shall sufferagonies of grief and remorse (I blame myself for not havingforbidden them to go in the canoe) for this terrible catastrophe.

After we returned to the land, I haunted the sea-shore for hours,hoping to see the bodies rise to the surface; but I watched invain. When at length the full magnitude of the disaster dawnedupon me, despair--the utter abandonment of despair--filled my soulfor the first time. Never again would my sweet companions cheer mysolitary moments. Never again would I see their loved forms, orhear their low, musical voices. Never again would we play togetherlike children on the sand. Never again would we build aerialcastles about the bright and happy future that was in store for us,looking back from the bourne of civilisation on our fantasticadventures. Never again should we compare our lot with that ofRobinson Crusoe or the Swiss Family Robinson.

My bright dream had passed away, and with a sudden revulsion offeeling I realised that the people around me were repulsivecannibals, among whom I was apparently doomed to pass the remainderof my hideous days--a fate infinitely more terrible than that ofjoining my darlings beneath the restless waves, that beat for everon that lonely shore. I was a long time before I could even bringmyself to be thankful for Yamba's escape, which was no doubtdreadfully ungrateful of me. I can only ask your pity and sympathyin my terrible affliction. What made my sorrow and remorse themore poignant, was the reflection that if I had retained one atomof my self-possession I would never have dreamed of approaching thelittle European vessel at the head of a whole flotilla ofcatamarans, filled with yelling and gesticulating savages. As tothe people on board the vessel, I exonerated them then, and Iexonerate them now, from all blame. Had you or I been on board, weshould probably have done exactly the same thing under thecircumstances.

Clearly the only reasonable plan of action was to have gone alone;but then, at critical times, even the wisest among us is apt tolose his head. God knows I paid dearly enough for my lack ofjudgment on this melancholy occasion.

My wound was not at all serious, and, thanks to Yamba's care, itquickly healed, and I was able to get about once more.

But I ought to tell you that when we returned I could not bear togo into our hut, where every little bunch of withered flowers,every garment of skin, and every implement, proclaimed aloud thestunning loss I had sustained. No, I went back direct to the campof the natives, and remained among them until the moment came formy departure. I think it was in the soft, still nights that I feltit most. I wept till I was as weak as a baby. Oh the torments ofremorse I endured--the fierce resentment against an all-wiseProvidence! "Alone! alone! alone!" I would shriek in an agony ofwretchedness; "Gone! gone! gone! Oh, come back to me, come back tome, I cannot live here now."

And I soon realised that it was impossible for me to remain thereany longer. There was much weeping and lamentation among thenative women, but I guessed it was not so much on account of thepoor girls, as out of sympathy for the loss the great white chiefhad sustained. I think Yamba went among them, and pointed out themagnitude of the disaster; otherwise they would have failed tograsp it. What was the loss of a woman or two to them? I felt, Isay, that I could not settle down in my hut again, and I wasconsumed with an intense longing to go away into the wilderness andthere hide my grief. In making an attempt to reach civilisation, Ithought this time of going due south, so that perhaps I mightultimately reach Sydney, or Melbourne, or Adelaide. I argued thuscasually to myself, little dreaming of the vast distances--mountainranges and waterless deserts--that separated me from these greatcities. For all I knew, I might have come upon them in a fewweeks! All I was certain of was that they lay somewhere to thesouth. Time was no object to me, and I might as well be walking inthe direction of civilisation as remaining in idle misery in my bayhome, brooding over the disaster that had clouded my life and madeit infinitely more intolerable than it was before the girls came.

Yamba instantly agreed to accompany me, and a few weeks after theloss of the girls we started out once more on our wanderings,accompanied by my ever faithful dog.

Bruno also missed his young mistresses. He would moan and crypitifully, and run aimlessly up and down the beach looking out tosea. Ah! had I only taken Bruno on that fatal day, he would nothave let my dear ones drown!

As I have said, I remained only a few weeks in my bay home, andthen departed. The blacks, too, left the spot, for they never staywhere the shadow of death lies, fearing the unpleasant attentionsof the spirits of the deceased. The parting between me and mypeople was a most affecting one, the women fairly howling inlamentations, which could be heard a great distance away. They hadshown such genuine sympathy with me in my misfortune that ourfriendship had very materially increased; but in spite of this goodfeeling, I knew I could never be happy among them again.

So we started off into the unknown, with no more provision orequipment than if we were going for a stroll of a mile or so.Yamba carried her yam-stick and basket, and I had my usual weapons--tomahawk and stiletto in my belt, and bow and arrows in my hand.I never dreamed when we started that to strike due south would takeus into the unexplored heart of the continent. Day after day,however, we walked steadily on our course, steering in a verycurious manner. We were guided by the ant-hills, which are alwaysbuilt facing the east, whilst the top inclines towards the north;and we knew that the scratches made on trees by the opossums wereinvariably on the north side.

We often steered by the habits of insects, wasps' nests, and othercurious auguries, fixing our position at night by the stars and inthe daytime by our own shadows. Yamba always went in front and Ifollowed. The bush teemed with fruits and roots. After leavingour own camp in the Cambridge Gulf region we struck a fine elevatedland, excellently well watered; and later on we followed theVictoria River in a south-easterly direction through part of theNorthern Territories of South Australia. We at length struck apeculiar country covered with coarse grass ten feet or twelve feethigh--not unlike the sugar-cane which I afterwards saw, but muchmore dense.

It was, of course, impossible for us to pursue our course duesouth, owing to the forests and ranges which we encountered; wehad, as a matter of fact, to follow native and kangaroo trackswherever they took us--east, west, and even north occasionally,generally to water-holes. The progress of the natives is simplyfrom one water supply to another. But as far as possible wepursued our way south. You will understand that this kind oftravelling was very different from that which we experienced on theVictoria River--which, by the way, traversed a very fine country.As we ascended it we passed many isolated hills of perhaps a fewhundred feet, and nowhere did I see any scrub or spinifex.

After leaving the Victoria we came upon a more elevated plateaucovered with rather fine but short grass; the trees were scarcerhere, but finer and bigger. There was plenty of water in thenative wells and in the hollows, although we frequently had toremove a few stones to get at it. There were plenty of kangaroosand emus about, as well as turkeys; these latter provided us withan unwonted dish, to say nothing of their delicious eggs.

Another reason for our coming round out of our course when we cameto forests was because but little food was found in them.Kangaroos and other animals were seldom or never found there: theyabounded usually in the more scrubby country. Our progress wasvery leisurely, and, as we met tribe after tribe, we ingratiatedourselves with them and camped at their wells. Occasionally wecame upon curious rivers and lagoons that ran into the earth anddisappeared in the most mysterious way, only to reappear somedistance farther on. Of course, I may be mistaken in this, butsuch at any rate was my impression.

One day as we were marching steadily along, Yamba startled me bycalling out excitedly, "Up a tree,--quick! Up a tree!" And sosaying she scampered up the nearest tree herself. Now, by thistime I had become so accustomed to acting upon her adviceunquestioningly, that without waiting to hear any more I made adash for the nearest likely tree and climbed into it as fast as Icould. Had she called out to me, "Leap into the river," I shouldhave done so without asking a question. When I was safely in thebranches, however, I called out to her (her tree was only a fewyards away), "What is the matter?" She did not reply, but pointedto a vast stretch of undulating country over which we had justcome; it was fairly well wooded. It lingers in my mind as a regionin which one was able to see a fairly long way in every direction--a very unusual feature in the land of "Never Never"!

I looked, but at first could see nothing. Presently, however, itseemed to me that the whole country in the far distance was coveredwith a black mantle, WHICH APPEARED TO BE MADE UP OF LIVINGCREATURES.

Steadily and rapidly this great mysterious wave swept along towardsus; and seeing that I was both puzzled and alarmed, Yamba gave meto understand that WE SHOULD PRESENTLY BE SURROUNDED BY MYRIADS OFRATS, stretching away in every direction like a living sea. Thephenomenon was evidently known to Yamba, and she went on to explainthat these creatures were migrating from the lowlands to themountains, knowing by instinct that the season of the great floodswas at hand. That weird and extraordinary sight will live in mymemory for ever. I question whether a spectacle so fantastic andawe-inspiring was ever dealt with, even in the pages of quasi-scientific fiction. It was impossible for me to observe in whatorder the rats were advancing, on account of the great stretch ofcountry which they covered. Soon, however, their shrill squealswere distinctly heard, and a few minutes later the edge of thatstrange tide struck our tree and swept past us with a forceimpossible to realise. No living thing was spared. Snakes,lizards--ay, even the biggest kangaroos--succumbed after anineffectual struggle. The rats actually ate those of their fellowswho seemed to hesitate or stumble. The curious thing was that thegreat army never seemed to stand still. It appeared to me thateach rat simply took a bite at whatever prey came his way, and thenpassed on with the rest.

I am unable to say how long the rats were in passing--it might havebeen an hour. Yamba told me that there would have been no help forus had we been overtaken on foot by these migratory rodents. It ismy opinion that no creature in Nature, from the elephant downwards,could have lived in that sea of rats. I could not see the groundbetween them, so closely were they packed. The only creatures thatescaped them were birds. The incessant squealing and the patter oftheir little feet made an extraordinary sound, comparable only tothe sighing of the wind or the beat of a great rain-storm. I oughtto mention, though, that I was unable accurately to determine thesound made by the advancing rats owing to my partial deafness,which you will remember was caused by the great wave which dashedme on to the deck of the Veielland, just before landing on thesand-spit in the Sea of Timor. I often found this deafness a veryserious drawback, especially when hunting. I was sometimes at aloss to hear the "coo-ee" or call of my natives. Fortunate men!THEY did not even understand what deafness meant. Lunacy also wasunknown among them, and such a thing as suicide no native canpossibly grasp or understand. In all my wanderings I only met oneidiot or demented person. He had been struck by a falling tree,and was worshipped as a demi-god!

When the rats had passed by, we watched them enter a large creekand swim across, after which they disappeared in the direction ofsome ranges which were not very far away. They never seemed tobreak their ranks; even when swimming, one beheld the same levelbrownish mass on the surface of the water. Yamba told me that thismigration of rats was not at all uncommon, but that the creaturesrarely moved about in such vast armies as the one that had justpassed.

I also learned that isolated parties of migrating rats wereresponsible for the horrible deaths of many native children, whohad, perhaps, been left behind in camp by their parents, who hadgone in search of water.

Up to this time we had always found food plentiful. On oursouthward journey a particularly pleasant and convenient article ofdiet turned up (or fell down) in the form of the MARU, as it iscalled, which collects on the leaves of trees during the night.Both in its appearance and manner of coming, this curious substancemay be likened to the manna that fell in the wilderness for thebenefit of the Israelites. This maru is a whitish substance, notunlike raw cotton in appearance. The natives make bread of it; itis rather tasteless, but is very nutritious, and only obtained atcertain times--for example, it never falls at the time of fullmoon, and is peculiar to certain districts.

During this great southward journey many strange things happened,and we saw a host of curious sights. I only wish I could trust mymemory to place these in their proper chronological order.

We had several visitations of locusts; and on one occasion, somemonths after leaving home, they settled upon the country around usso thickly as actually to make a living bridge across a largecreek. On several occasions I have had to dig through a livingcrust of these insects, six or eight inches thick, in order toreach water at a water-hole. These locusts are of a yellowish-brown colour (many are grey), and they range in length from two tofour inches.

As they rise in the air they make a strange cracking, snappingsound; and they were often present in such myriads as actually tohide the face of the sun. I found them excellent eating whengrilled on red-hot stones.

Yamba, of course, did all the cooking, making a fire with her ever-ready fire-stick, which no native woman is ever without; and whileshe looked after the supply of roots and opossum meat, I generallyprovided the snakes, emus, and kangaroos. Our shelter at nightconsisted merely of a small GUNYAH made of boughs, and we left thefire burning in front of this when we turned in.

When we had been fully three months out, a very extraordinary thinghappened, which to many people would be incredible were it notrecognised as a well-known Australian phenomenon. We had reached avery dry and open grass country, where there was not a tree to beseen for miles and miles. Suddenly, as Yamba and I were squattingon the ground enjoying a meal, we saw a strange black cloud loomingon the horizon, and hailed its advent with the very greatestdelight, inasmuch as it presaged rain--which is always so vitallyimportant a visitation in the "Never Never." We waited inanticipation until the cloud was right over our heads. Then thedeluge commenced, and to my unbounded amazement I found that withthe rain LIVE FISH AS BIG AS WHITEBAIT WERE FALLING FROM THECLOUDS! When this wonderful rain-storm had passed, large pools ofwater were left on the surface of the ground, and most of thesewere fairly alive with fish. This surface-water, however,evaporated in the course of a few days, and then, as the blazingsun beat down upon the fish-covered country, we found the regiongrowing quite intolerable on account of the awful stench.

Talking of storms, I have seen it stated that the Australiannatives are in a state of high glee whenever they hear thunder.This is perfectly true, but I have never seen any explanation ofthis joy. It is simple enough. The natives know that thunderpresages rain, which is always a blessing of great price in thatthirsty country.

I think this was the first time I had actually SEEN it rain fish.But I had often been surprised, to find water-holes, and even thepools in grassy plains, literally alive with fish a few days aftera storm. And they grew with astounding rapidity, provided thewater did not evaporate. This was in the vicinity of my CambridgeGulf home.

We remained in the neighbourhood for some time, living on a mostwelcome fish diet. Very frequently in our wanderings we wereprovided with another dainty in the shape of a worm, which, whenbroiled over charcoal, had the flavour of a walnut.

These worms we found in the grass trees, which grow to a height often to twenty feet, and have bare trunks surmounted by what looksat a distance like a big bunch of drooping bulrushes. The wormswere of a whitish colour, and were always found in the interior ofa well-matured or decaying stem; so that all we had to do was topush the tree over with our feet and help ourselves.

In the course of our wanderings we usually went from tribe totribe, staying a little time with some, and with others merelyexchanging greetings. With some tribes we would perhaps travel alittle way south, and only part with them when they were about tostrike northwards; and as their course was simply from water-holeto water-hole, as I have told you, it was always pretty erratic.

Occasionally one of the tribes would display hostility towards usat first sight, but I generally managed to ingratiate myself intotheir good graces by the exercise of a little diplomacy--andacrobatics. Curiously enough, many of these tribes did not displaymuch surprise at seeing a white man, apparently reserving all theiramazement for Bruno's bark and the white man's wonderfulperformances.

I may here remark that, in the event of our coming across a hostiletribe who fought shy of my friendly advances, I would, withoutceremony, introduce myself by dashing into their midst and turninga few somersaults or Catherine-wheels such as the London GAMINSdisplay for the benefit of easily-pleased excursionists. Thisqueer entertainment usually created roars of laughter, and setevery one at his ease.

I remember once being surprised by the sudden appearance over thecrest of a hillock of about twenty blacks, all well armed andpresenting rather a formidable appearance. The moment they caughtsight of Yamba and myself they halted, whereupon I advanced andcalled out to them that I was a friend, at the same time holdingout my passport stick. By the way, the efficacy of this talismanvaried according to the tribes. Yamba could make neither head nortail of these people; they jabbered in a language quiteunintelligible to either of us. I then reverted to the inevitablesign language, giving them to understand that I wished to sleepwith them a night or two; but they still continued to brandishtheir spears ominously. Yamba presently whispered in my ear thatwe had better not trouble them any further, as they were evidentlyinclined to be pugnacious. This was a very exceptional rencontre,because I usually induced the natives to sit down and parley withme, and then I would produce my mysterious stick. In the event ofthis proving of little account, both I and Bruno would without amoment's hesitation plunge into our performance. It always beganwith a few somersaults. Bruno needed no looking after. He knewhis business, and went through his own repertoire with great energyand excitement. The accompanying barks were probably involuntary,but they were a great help in astonishing and impressing thenatives.

Even in this instance I was unwilling to retire defeated; sosuddenly pulling out one of my little reed whistles capable ofproducing two notes, I commenced a violent jig to my own "music."The effect on the scowling and ferocious-looking blacks was quitemagical. They immediately threw down their spears and laugheduproariously at my vigorous antics. I danced till I was quitetired, but managed to wind up the entertainment with a fewsomersaults, which impressed them vastly.

I had conquered. When I had finished they advanced and greeted memost heartily, and from that moment we were friends. I hadcompletely done away with their enmity by my simple efforts toamuse them. For the most part, this was my invariable experience.The natives were the easiest people in the world to interest andamuse, and when once I had succeeded in winning them in this way,they were our warmest friends. This band of warriors took us backto their camping-ground, some miles away, and actually gave a greatfeast in my honour that evening, chanting the wonderful things theyhad seen until far into the night. The place where I met theseblacks was a broken, stony, and hilly country, which, however,abounded in roots and snakes--especially snakes. My hosts hadevidently had a recent battue, or fire hunt, for they had a mostextraordinary stock of food. So completely had I won them over,that I actually hung up my bow and arrows along with their spearsbefore retiring to rest. The expression "hung up" may seemcurious, so I hasten to explain that the natives tied up theirspears in bunches and placed them on the scrub bushes.

Next morning I brought down a few hawks on the wing with my bow andarrows, and then the amazement of the natives was quite comical towitness. Shooting arrows in a straight line astonished themsomewhat, but the more bombastic among them would say, "Why I cando that," and taking his woomerah he would hurl a spear a longdistance. Not one of them, however, was able TO THROW A SPEARUPWARDS, so I scored over even the most redoubtable chiefs. It maybe well to explain, that birds are always to be found hoveringabout a native camp; they act as scavengers, and their presence inthe sky is always an indication that an encampment is somewhere inthe vicinity. These birds are especially on the spot when theblacks set fire to the bush and organise a big battue. At suchtimes the rats and lizards rush out into the open, and the hawksreap a fine harvest.

My natives are referred to as "blacks," or "black-fellows," butthey are not really BLACK, their hue being rather a brown, rangingfrom a very dark brown, indeed, to almost the lightness of a Malay.I found the coast tribes lightest in hue, while the inland nativeswere very much darker. Here I may mention that after having beenon my way south for some months, I began to notice a totaldifference between the natives I met and my own people in theCambridge Gulf district. The tribes I was now encountering dailywere inferior in physique, and had inferior war implements; I donot remember that they had any shields.

The blacks I had whistled and jigged before were, perhaps, theugliest of all the aborigines I had met, which was saying a verygreat deal. The men were very short, averaging little more thanfive feet, with low foreheads and hideously repulsive features. Inoticed, however, that the animals they had for food seemed verymuch fatter than similar creatures farther north. One thing I wasgrateful to these people for was honey, which I urgently requiredfor medicinal purposes. They were very sorry when we left them,and a small band of warriors accompanied us on our first day'smarch. We were then handed on from tribe to tribe, smoke signalsbeing sent up to inform the next "nation" that friendly strangerswere coming.

Nevertheless, I gradually became uneasy. We were evidently gettinginto a country where the greatest of our wonders could not save usfrom the hostility of the natives. We presently encounteredanother tribe, who not only at first refused to accept our friendlyovertures, but even threatened to attack us before I had time toconsider another plan. I tried the effect of my whistle, but eventhis failed in its effect; and to my alarm, before I could givethem an exhibition of my acrobatic powers they had hurled one ortwo war spears, which whizzed by unpleasantly close to my head.Without further ado, well knowing that vacillation meant death, Isent half-a-dozen arrows in succession amongst them, taking care,however, to aim very low, so as not unduly to injure my opponents.

The hostile blacks came to a sudden halt, as they found themysterious spears flying round them, and then watching myopportunity, I dashed forward right among them, and turned over andover in a series of rapid and breathless somersaults.

I had conquered again. Do not blame the natives, for with themevery stranger is an enemy until he has proved himself a friend.Hence it is that when white men suddenly appear among these nativesthey run imminent risk of being promptly speared, unless they canmake it quite clear that no harm is intended.

Bruno ran the same risk. Incident after incident of this kindhappened almost daily, and although they involved some peril, yetthey came as a welcome break when life on the march grew toomonotonous. Deliberate treachery was very rare among the natives Icame across, but it was by no means altogether absent; and,notwithstanding all my knowledge, my wife and I were sometimes inserious danger of our lives.

One day we came upon a tribe as usual, and after the customarypreliminaries were gone through they became apparently quitefriendly. I was careful never unduly to exhibit my steel tomahawk,which I always kept in a kind of sheath or covering of opossum-skin, so that it might not arouse envy; a second motive for thiswas to prevent its chafing my body. I never used either stilettoor tomahawk unless absolutely necessary, reserving both for greatemergencies. I knew they could never be replaced, so it behoved mejealously to guard such precious possessions. I never even used mystiletto at meal-times, nor even in cutting up animals for food,lest the blood should rust the blade and eat it away. Many timesalready had it come in useful at close quarters--notably in thecase of the fight with the alligator and the killing of thecannibal chief who owned the white girls.

The chief of the tribe I am discussing saw me using my tomahawk oneday, and eagerly asked me to make over the implement to him as agift. I courteously told him that I could not do so. He seemedsomewhat disappointed at my refusal, but did not appear to bear meany ill-feeling in consequence. The blacks, by the way, seldom cutdown trees except for spears, and the reason for this is verycurious. They imagine the tree to be a thing of life, and whenthey are forced to cut one down, quite a religious ceremony isheld, and profuse apologies made to the tree for taking its life.

They never even take a strip of bark right round, knowing that thiswill kill the tree; they always leave a little bit of connectingbark.

As some reason for the refusal of my tomahawk was expected, I toldthe chief that it was part of my life--indeed, part of my verybeing, which was perfectly true. I also worked on the chief'ssuperstitions, assuring him earnestly that if I parted with theweapon it would so anger the spirits as to bring about a terriblecurse in the country. The tomahawk I declared was a direct gift tome from the Sun itself, so how could I part with it? I had thoughtof offering it, curses and all, but the risk of prompt acceptancewas too great.

That night Yamba warned me that trouble was impending. For myselfI never knew, and I suppose she read the signs among the men andgot certain definite information from the women. We thereforeslept some miles away from the encampment in a makeshift gunyahbuilt of boughs, in front of which the usual fire was made. Afterwe had retired to rest, Yamba woke me and said that she detectedstrange noises. I immediately sprang to my feet and looked allround our little shelter. It was much too dark for me to seeanything distinctly, but I fancied I heard retreating footsteps.Utterly at a loss to account for this strange occurrence, andfearing that some danger threatened us, Yamba and I covered in thefront of the shelter, and then quietly retired into the bush, wherewe lay hidden without a fire until morning. When we returned toour shelter it was broad daylight, and, as we half expected, wefound three formidable spears buried in the sides of our littlehut. Three others were stuck in the ground near the fire, clearlyproving that an attempt had been made upon our lives during thenight. On examining the spears we found they most certainlybelonged to the tribe we had left the previous day. The spear-heads were of a different kind of flint from anything I hadpreviously seen, being dark green in colour; and they wereextremely sharp. The individuality of the different tribes isstrongly and decidedly marked in the make of their spears. Ourtreacherous hosts had evidently determined to obtain the covetedtomahawk by force, and when they reached the spot where theysupposed we lay (they could not see into the interior from thefront), they hurled their spears in the hope of killing us, but didnot investigate the result, they being such arrant cowards atnight. Remember, they had actually ventured at night into the bushin spite of their inveterate fear of "the spirits."

The precaution adopted on this occasion was always followed by uswhen we had any real doubt about the natives; that is to say, webuilt a "dummy" gunyah of boughs, which we were supposed to sleepin; and we covered in the front so as our possible assailants couldnot easily detect our absence. We would then creep away into thebush or hide behind a tree, and, of course, would light no fire.

Many times was that same tomahawk coveted. You see, the nativeswould watch me cutting boughs with it, or procuring honey bycutting down branches with an ease that caused them to despisetheir own rude stone axes.

The case of treachery I have just described was not an isolatedone, but I am bound to say such occurrences were rare in theinterior--although more or less frequent about the western shoresof the Gulf of Carpentaria. At any rate, this was my experience.

During our journey from my home to the shores of the Gulf, Iremember coming across a flat country from which the natives hadapparently disappeared altogether. When we did come upon them,however, in the high ground I was probably guilty of some littlebreach of etiquette, such as LOOKING at the women--(for manyreasons I always studied the various types in a tribe)--and Yambaand I were often in peril of our lives on this account. As a rule,however, safety lay in the fact that the natives are terriblyafraid of darkness, and they believe the spirits of the dead roamabroad in the midnight hours.

Month after month we continued our progress in a southerlydirection, although, as I have said before, we often turned north-east and even due west, following the valleys when stopped by theranges--where, by the way, we usually found turkeys in greatnumbers. We had water-bags made out of the skins of kangaroos andwallabies, and would camp wherever possible close to a native well,where we knew food was to be found in plenty.

At this period I noticed that the more easterly I went, the moreranges I encountered; whilst the somewhat dreary and mostlywaterless lowland lay to the west. We would sometimes fail toobtain water for a couple of days; but this remark does not applyto the mountainous regions. Often the wells were quite dry andfood painfully scarce; this would be in a region of sand andspinifex.

When I beheld an oasis of palms and ti-trees I would make for it,knowing that if no water existed there, it could easily be got bydigging. The physical conditions of the country would changesuddenly, and my indefatigable wife was frequently at fault in herroot-hunting expeditions. Fortunately, animal life was very seldomscarce. On the whole, we were extremely fortunate in the matter ofwater,--although the natives often told me that the low wastes ofsand and spinifex were frequently so dry, that it was impossibleeven for them to cross. What astonished me greatly was that theline of demarcation between an utter desert and, say, a fine forestwas almost as sharply marked as if it had been drawn with a rule.A stretch of delightfully wooded country would follow the drearywastes, and this in turn would give place to fairly high mountainranges.

Once, during a temporary stay among one of the tribes, the chiefshowed me some very interesting caves among the low limestoneranges that were close by. It was altogether a very ruggedcountry. Always on the look-out for something to interest andamuse me, and always filled with a strange, vague feeling thatsomething MIGHT turn up unexpectedly which would enable me toreturn to civilisation, I at once determined to explore thesecaves; and here I had a very strange and thrilling adventure.

Whilst roaming among the caves I came across a pit measuringperhaps twenty feet in diameter and eight feet or nine feet indepth. It had a sandy bottom; and as I saw a curious-lookingdepression in one corner, I jumped down to investigate it, leavingBruno barking at the edge of the pit, because I knew I should havesome trouble in hoisting him up again if I allowed him to accompanyme. I carried a long stick, much longer than a waddy; perhaps itwas a yam-stick--I cannot remember. At any rate, just as I wasabout to probe a mysterious-looking hole, I beheld with alarm andamazement the ugly head of a large black snake suddenly thrust outat me from a dark mass, which I presently found was the decayedstump of a tree. I fell back as far as possible, and then saw thatthe reptile had quite uncoiled itself from the stem, and was comingstraight at me. I promptly dealt it a violent blow on the body,just below that point where it raised its head from the ground. Nosooner had I done this than another dark and hissing head camecharging in my direction. Again I struck at the reptile's body andoverpowered it. Next came a third, and a fourth, and fifth, andthen I realised that the whole of the dead stump was simply oneliving mass of coiled snakes, which were probably hibernating. Oneafter another they came at me; of course, had they all come atonce, no power on earth could have saved me. I wondered how longthis weird contest would be kept up; and again and again betweenthe attacks I tried to escape, but had scarcely taken an upwardstep when another huge reptile was upon me.

I was aware that Bruno was running backwards and forwards at theedge of the pit all this time, barking frantically in a mostexcited state. He knew perfectly well what snakes were, havingfrequently been bitten. I owe my life on this occasion solely tothe fact that the snakes were in a torpid state, and came at me oneat a time instead of altogether. It was the cold season, about themonth of June or July. It is impossible at such moments to takeany account of time, so I cannot say how long the battle lasted.At length, however, I was able to count the slain. I did thispartly out of curiosity and partly because I wanted to impress thenatives--to boast, if you prefer that phrase. Modesty, wheremodesty is unknown, would have been absurd, if not fatal to myprestige. Well, in all there were SIXTY-EIGHT BLACK SNAKES,AVERAGING ABOUT FOUR FEET SIX INCHES IN LENGTH.

I do not remember that I was fatigued; I think my excitement wastoo great for any such feeling to have made itself felt. When atlength I was able to get away, I and Bruno rushed off to the nativecamp a few miles away, and brought back the blacks to see what Ihad done. The spectacle threw them into a state of greatamazement, and from that time on I was looked upon with thegreatest admiration. The story of how I had killed the snakes soonspread abroad among the various tribes for miles round, and waschanted by many tribes, the means of inter-communication being theuniversal smoke-signals. One important consequence of thisadventure was that I was everywhere received with the very greatestrespect.

It may be mentioned here that no matter how unfriendly tribes maybe, they always exchange news by means of smoke-signals. I mayalso say that at corroborees and such-like festivities a vastamount of poetic boasting and exaggeration is indulged in, each"hero" being required to give practical demonstrations of thethings he has seen, the doughty deeds he has done, &c. He warms upas he goes along, and magnifies its importance in a ridiculous way.It amuses me to this day to recall my own preposterous songs abouthow I killed the two whales WITH MY STILETTO, and other drollpretensions. But, ah! I was serious enough then!

In the mountainous region where I encountered the snakes, I alsomet a native who actually spoke English. He called himself eitherPeter or Jacky Jacky--I cannot remember which; but in any case itwas a name given him by pearlers. He had once lived with somepearlers near the north-west coast of Western Australia--probablyon the De Grey River. His story was quite unprecedented among theblacks, and he gave me many terrible instances of the perfidy shownby white adventurers towards the unfortunate natives. The preciselocality where I met this man was probably near Mount Farewell,close to the border-line of South Australia and Western Australia.Well, then, Jacky Jacky--to give him the name which lingers mosttenaciously in my mind--was persuaded to join in a pearlingexpedition, together with a number of his companions. They allaccepted engagements from the whites, on the distinct understandingthat they were to be away about three moons. Instead, they werepractically kidnapped by force, and treated--or rather ill-treated--as slaves for several years.

First of all, the poor creatures were taken to an island in thevicinity of North-West Cape, off which the pearling fleet lay.During the voyage to the pearling grounds the water supply on boardran short, and so great was the suffering among the blacks--theywere kept on the shortest of short commons, as you may suppose--that they plotted to steal a cask of the precious fluid for theirown use. The vessel was quite a small one, and the water was keptin the hold. But the two or three whites who formed the crewforcibly prevented the black-fellows from carrying out their plan.This gave rise to much discontent, and eventually the blacks, indesperation, openly rose and mutinied. Arming themselves withheavy pieces of firewood they proceeded to attack their masters,and some of them succeeded in getting at the water, in spite of thewhites, by simply knocking the bungs out of the casks. The captainthereupon went down to parley with them, but was met by a shower ofblows from the heavy sticks I have just mentioned. Half-stunned,he dashed out of the hold, got his musket, and fired down among themutineers, hitting one black-fellow in the throat, and killing himinstantly. Far from infuriating the rest, as would most certainlyhave been the case with any other race, this course of actionterrified the blacks, and they barricaded themselves down below.Eventually the whites again sought them and made peace, the blackspromising to conduct themselves more obediently in the future. Itmay here be said that the ship had called specially at JackyJacky's home on the coast to kidnap the natives.

On arriving at the pearling settlement, the blacks found themselvesamong a number of other unfortunate creatures like themselves, andall were compelled to go out in pearling vessels just as theexigencies of the industry required. Jacky Jacky himself was keptat this work for upwards of three years; and he told me manyterrible stories of the white man's indescribable cruelty andvillainy. He and his companions were invariably chained up duringthe night and driven about like cattle in the daytime. Many of hismates at the pearling settlement had been kidnapped from theirhomes in a cruel and contemptible manner, and herded off like sheepby men on horseback armed with formidable weapons.

Their sufferings were very great because, of course, they weretotally unused to work of any kind. The enforced exile from homeand the dreary compulsory labour made the life far worse than deathfor these primitive children of Nature. Then, again, they wereexiled from their wives, who would, of course, be appropriated intheir absence--another tormenting thought. They were frequentlybeaten with sticks, and when they attempted to run away they werespeared as enemies by other tribes; whilst, in the event of theirescaping altogether, they would not have been recognised even whenthey returned to their own homes. One day Jacky Jacky's ship cameinto a little bay on the mainland for water, and then myenterprising friend, watching his opportunity, struck inland forhome and liberty, accompanied by several other companions inmisery. These latter the coast natives promptly speared, but JackyJacky escaped, thanks probably to his knowledge of the white man'swiles. He soon reached the more friendly mountain tribes in theinterior, where he was received as a man and a brother. You see,he had stolen a revolver from his late masters, and this mysteriousweapon created great terror among his new friends. Altogether heposed as quite a great man, particularly when his story becameknown. He worked his way from tribe to tribe, until at length hegot to the ranges where I met him--quite a vast distance from thecoast.

Many parts of the extensive country I traversed on my southwardjourney, after the death of the girls, were exceedingly rich inminerals, and particularly in gold, both alluvial and in quartz.As I was making my way one day through a granite country along thebanks of a creek, I beheld some reddish stones, which I at oncepounced upon and found to be beautiful rubies. Having no means ofcarrying them, however, and as they were of no value whatever tome, I simply threw them away again, and now merely record the fact.I also came across large quantities of alluvial tin, but this,again, was not of the slightest use, any more than it had been whenI found it in very large quantities in the King Leopold Ranges.The test I applied to see whether it really WAS tin was to scratchit with my knife. Even when large quantities of native gold lay atmy feet, I hardly stooped to pick it up, save as a matter ofcuriosity. Why should I? What use was it to me? As I have statedover and over again in public, I would have given all the gold fora few ounces of salt, which I needed so sorely. Afterwards,however, I made use of the precious metal in a very practicalmanner, but of this more hereafter. At one place--probably nearthe Warburton Ranges in Western Australia--I picked up an immensepiece of quartz, which was so rich that it appeared to be one massof virgin gold; and when on showing it to Yamba I told her that inmy country men were prepared to go to any part of the world, andundergo many terrible hardships to obtain it, she thought at firstI was joking. Indeed, the thing amused her ever after, as it didthe rest of my people. I might also mention that up in the thenlittle-known Kimberley district, many of the natives weighted theirspears with pure gold. I must not omit to mention that nativesnever poison their spear-heads. I only found the nuggets, big andlittle, near the creeks during and after heavy rains; and I mightmention that having with some difficulty interested Yamba in thesubject, she was always on the look-out for the tell-tale specksand gleams. In some of the ranges, too, I found the opal in largeand small quantities, but soon discovered that the material was toolight and brittle for spear-heads, to which curious use I essayedto put this beautiful stone. Talking about spear-heads, in theranges where I met Jacky Jacky there was a quarry of that kind ofstone which was used for the making of war and other implements.It was very much worked, and as you may suppose was a valuablepossession to the tribe in whose territory it was situated. Thestone was a kind of flint, extremely hard and capable of being madevery sharp, and retaining its edge. Natives from far and near cameto barter for the stone with shells, and ornaments which theseinland tribes did not possess. The method of getting out the stonewas by building fires over it, and then when it had become red-hotthrowing large and small quantities of water upon it in anamazingly dexterous way. The stone would immediately be split andriven exactly in the manner required.

My very first discovery of gold was made in some crevices near abig creek, which had cut its way through deep layers ofconglomerate hundreds of feet thick. This country was an elevatedplateau, intersected by deeply cut creeks, which had left thevarious strata quite bare, with curious concave recesses in whichthe natives took shelter during the wet season. One of the nuggetsI picked up in the creek I have just mentioned weighed severalpounds, and was three or four inches long; it was rather more thanan inch in thickness. This nugget I placed on a block of wood andbeat out with a stone, until I could twist it easily with myfingers, when I fashioned it into a fillet as an ornament forYamba's hair. This she continued to wear for many yearsafterwards, but the rude golden bracelets and anklets I also madefor her she gave away to the first children we met.

In many of the rocky districts the reefs were evidently extremelyrich; but I must confess I rarely troubled to explore them. Inother regions the gold-bearing quartz was actually a curse, ourpath being covered with sharp pebbles of quartz and slate, whichmade ever step forward a positive agony. Wild ranges adjoined thatconglomerate country, which, as you have probably gathered, isextremely difficult to traverse. Certainly it would be impossiblefor camels.

When we had been on the march southwards about nine months therecame one of the most important incidents in my life, and one whichcompletely changed my plans. One day we came across a party ofabout eight natives--all young fellows--who were on a punitiveexpedition; and as they were going in our direction (they overtookus going south), we walked along with them for the sake of theircompany. The country through which we were passing at that time isa dreary, undulating expanse of spinifex desert, with a fewscattered and weird-looking palms, a little scrub, and scarcely anysigns of animal life. The further east we went, the better grewthe country; but, on the other hand, when we went westward we gotfarther and farther into the dreary wastes. At the spot I have inmy mind ranges loomed to the south--a sight which cheered meconsiderably, for somehow I thought I should soon strikecivilisation.

Had not the blacks we were with taken us to some wells we wouldhave fared very badly indeed in this region, as no water could befound except by digging. I noticed that the blacks looked for ahollow depression marked by a certain kind of palm, and then dug ahole in the gravel and sandy soil with their hands and yam-sticks.They usually came upon water a few feet down, but the distanceoften varied very considerably.

We were crossing the summit of a little hill, where we had restedfor a breathing space, when, without the least warning I suddenlybeheld, a few hundred yards away, in the valley beneath, FOUR WHILEMEN ON HORSEBACK! I think they had a few spare horses with them,but, of course, all that I saw were the four white men. Iafterwards learned that, according to our respective routes, wewould have crossed their track, but they would not have crossedours. They were going west. They wore the regulation dress of theAustralian--broad sombrero hats, flannel shirts, and rather dirtywhite trousers, with long riding-boots. I remember they weremoving along at a wretched pace, which showed that their horseswere nearly spent. Once again, notwithstanding all previous bitterlessons, my uncontrollable excitement was my undoing."Civilisation at last!" I screamed to myself, and then, throwingdiscretion to the winds, I gave the war-whoop of the blacks andrushed madly forward, yelling myself hoarse, and supremelyoblivious of the fantastic and savage appearance I must havepresented--with my long hair flowing wildly out behind, and my skinpractically indistinguishable from that of an ordinary black-fellow. My companions, I afterwards discovered, swept after me asin a furious charge, FOR THEY THOUGHT I WANTED TO ANNIHILATE THEWHITE MEN AT SIGHT. Naturally, the spectacle unnerved thepioneers, and they proceeded to repel the supposed attack by firinga volley into the midst of us. Their horses were terrified, andreared and plunged in a dangerous manner, thereby greatly adding tothe excitement of that terrible moment. The roar of the volley andthe whizz of the shots brought me to my senses, however, andalthough I was not hit, I promptly dropped to the ground amidst thelong grass, as also did Yamba and the other blacks. Like a flashmy idiotic blunder came home to me, and then I was ready to dashout again alone to explain; but Yamba forcibly prevented me fromexposing myself to what she considered certain death.

The moment the horsemen saw us all disappear in the long grass theywheeled round, changing their course a little more to the south--they had been going west, so far as I can remember--and theircaravan crawled off in a manner that suggested that the horses werepretty well done for. On our part, we at once made for the rangesthat lay a little to the south. Here we parted with our friendsthe blacks, who made off in an east-south-easterly direction.

The dominant feeling within me as I saw the white men ride off wasone of uncontrollable rage and mad despair. I was apparently apariah, with the hand of every white man--when I met one--againstme. "Well," I thought, "if civilisation is not prepared to receiveme, I will wait until it is." Disappointment after disappointment,coupled with the incessant persuasions of Yamba and my peoplegenerally, were gradually reconciling me to savage life; and slowlybut relentlessly the thought crept into my mind that I WAS DOOMEDNEVER TO REACH CIVILISATION AGAIN, and so perhaps it would bebetter for me to resign myself to the inevitable, and stay where Iwas. I would turn back, I thought, with intense bitterness andheart-break, and make a home among the tribes in the hills, wherewe would be safe from the white man and his murderous weapons. AndI actually DID turn back, accompanied, of course, by Yamba. We didnot strike due north again, as it was our intention to find apermanent home somewhere among the ranges, at any rate for theensuing winter. It was out of the question to camp where we were,because it was much too cold; and besides Yamba had much difficultyin finding roots.

Several days later, as we were plodding steadily along, away fromthe ranges that I have spoken of as lying to the south, Yamba,whose eyes were usually everywhere, suddenly gave a cry and stoodstill, pointing to some peculiar and unmistakable footprints in thesandy ground. These, she confidently assured me, were those of awhite man WHO HAD LOST HIS REASON, and was wandering aimlesslyabout that fearful country. It was, of course, easy for her toknow the white man's tracks when she saw them, but I was curioushow she could be certain that the wanderer had lost his reason.She pointed out to me that, in the first place, the tracks had beenmade by some one wearing boots, and as the footprints straggledabout in a most erratic manner, it was clearly evident that thewearer could not be sane.

Even at this time, be it remembered, I was burning with rageagainst the whites, and so I decided to follow the tracks and findthe individual who was responsible for them. But do not be underany misapprehension. My intentions were not philanthropic, butrevengeful. I had become a black-fellow myself now, and wasconsumed with a black-fellow's murderous passion. At one time Ithought I would follow the whole party, and kill them in thedarkness with my stiletto when opportunity offered.

The new tracks we had come upon told me plainly that the party hadseparated, and were therefore now in my power. I say these thingsbecause I do not want any one to suppose I followed up the tracksof the lost man with the intention of rendering him any assistance.For nearly two days Yamba and I followed the tracks, which went incurious circles always trending to the left. At length we began tocome upon various articles that had apparently been thrown away bythe straggler. First of all, we found part of a letter that wasaddressed to some one (I think) in Adelaide; but of this I wouldnot be absolutely certain. What I do remember was that theenvelope bore the postmark of Ti Tree Gully, S.A.

The writer of that letter was evidently a woman, who, so far as Ican remember, wrote congratulating her correspondent upon the factthat he was joining an expedition which was about to traverse theentire continent. I fancy she said she was glad of this for hisown sake, for it would no doubt mean much to him. She wished himall kinds of glory and prosperity, and wound up by assuring himthat none would be better pleased on his return than she.

The country through which these tracks led us was for the most parta mere dry, sandy waste, covered with the formidable spinifex orporcupine grass. Yamba walked in front peering at the tracks.

Presently she gave a little cry, and when she turned to me I sawthat she had in her hand the sombrero hat of an Australian pioneer.A little farther on we found a shirt, and then a pair of trousers.We next came upon a belt and a pair of dilapidated boots.

At length, on reaching the crest of a sandy hillock, we suddenlybeheld the form of a naked white man lying face downwards in thesand below us. As you may suppose, we simply swooped down uponhim; but on reaching him my first impression was that HE WAS DEAD!His face was slightly turned to the right, his arms outstretched,and his fingers dug convulsively in the sand. I am amused now whenI remember how great was our emotion on approaching thisunfortunate. My first thought in turning the man over on to hisback, and ascertaining that at last he breathed, was one of greatjoy and thankfulness.

"Thank God," I said to myself, "I have at last found a whitecompanion--one who will put me in touch once more with the greatworld outside." The burning rage that consumed me (you know myobject in following the tracks) died away in pity as I thought ofthe terrible privations and sufferings this poor fellow must haveundergone before being reduced to this state. My desire forrevenge was forgotten, and my only thought now was to nurse back tohealth the unconscious man.

First of all I moistened his mouth with the water which Yambaalways carried with her in a skin bag, and then I rubbed himvigorously, hoping to restore animation. I soon exhausted thecontents of the bag, however, and immediately Yamba volunteered togo off and replenish it. She was absent an hour or more, I think,during which time I persisted in my massage treatment--although sofar I saw no signs of returning consciousness on the part of mypatient.

When Yamba returned with the water, I tried to make the prostrateman swallow some of it, and I even smeared him with the blood of anopossum which my thoughtful helpmate had brought back with her.But for a long time all my efforts were in vain, and then, dragginghim to the foot of a grass-tree, I propped him up slightly againstit, wetted his shirt with water and wound it round his throat.Meanwhile Yamba threw water on him and rubbed him vigorously.

At last he uttered a sound--half groan, half sigh (it thrilled methrough and through); and I noticed that he was able to swallow afew drops of water. The gloom of night was now descending on thatstrange wilderness of sand and spinifex, so we prepared to staythere with our helpless charge until morning. Yamba and I took itin turns to watch over him and keep his mouth moistened. Bymorning he had so far revived that he opened his eyes and looked atme. How eagerly had I anticipated that look, and how bitter was mydisappointment when I found that it was a mere vacant stare inwhich was no kind of recognition! Ever hopeful, however, Iattributed the vacant look to the terrible nature of hissufferings. I was burning to ply him with all manner of questionsas to who he was, where he had come from, and what news he had ofthe outside world; but I restrained myself by a great effort, andmerely persevered in my endeavours to restore him to completeanimation. When the morning was pretty well advanced the man wasable to sit up; and in the course of a few days he was even able toaccompany us to a water-hole, where we encamped, and stayed untilhe had practically recovered--or, at any rate, was able to getabout.

But, you may be asking, all this time, did the man himself saynothing? Indeed, he said much, and I hung upon every syllable thatfell from his lips, but, to my indescribable chagrin, it was a merevoluble jargon of statements, which simply baffled and puzzled meand caused me pain. Our charge would stare at us stolidly, andthen remark, in a vulgar Cockney voice, that he was quite SURE wewere going the wrong way. By this time, I should mention, we hadre-clothed him in his trousers and shirt, for he had obviouslysuffered terribly from the burning sun.

Many days passed away before I would admit to myself that thisunhappy creature was a hopeless imbecile. I was never absent fromhis side day or night, hoping and waiting for the first saneremark. Soon, however, the bitter truth was borne in upon us that,instead of having found salvation and comfort in the society of awhite man, we were merely saddled with a ghastly encumbrance, andwere far worse off than before.

We now set off in the direction of our old tracks, but were notable to travel very fast on account of the still feeble conditionof the white stranger. Poor creature! I pitied him from thebottom of my heart. It seemed so terrible for a man to lapse intoa state of imbecility after having survived the dreadful hardshipsand adventures that had befallen him. I tried over and over againto elicit sensible replies to my questions as to where he camefrom; but he simply gibbered and babbled like a happy baby. Icoaxed; I threatened; I persuaded; but it was all in vain. I soonfound he was a regular millstone round my neck--particularly whenwe were on the "walk-about." He would suddenly take it into hishead to sit down for hours at a stretch, and nothing would inducehim to move until he did so of his own accord.

Curiously enough, Bruno became very greatly attached to him, andwas his constant companion. Of this I was extremely glad, becauseit relieved me of much anxiety. You will understand what I meanwhen I tell you that, in spite of all our endeavours, ourmysterious companion would go off by himself away from our track;and at such times were it not for Bruno--whom he would followanywhere--we would often have had much trouble in bringing him backagain. Or he might have been speared before a strange tribe couldhave discovered his "sacred" (idiotic) condition.

At length we reached a large lagoon, on the shores of which westayed for about two years. This lagoon formed part of a big riverat flood-time, but the connecting stretches of water had long sincedried up for many miles both above and below it. The question maybe asked, Why did I settle down here? The answer is, that ourwhite companion had become simply an intolerable burden. Hesuffered from the most exhausting attacks of dysentery, and wasquite helpless. It was, of course, my intention to have continuedmy march northward to my old home in the Cambridge Gulf district,because by this time I had quite made up my mind that, by livingthere quietly, I stood a better chance of escape to civilisation bymeans of some vessel than I did by attempting to traverse theentire continent. This latter idea was now rendered impossible, onaccount of the poor, helpless creature I had with me. Indeed, sogreat an anxiety was he to me and Yamba, that we decided we couldgo nowhere, either north or south, until he had become more robustin health. Needless to say, I never intrusted him with a weapon.

I had found a sheath-knife belonging to him, but I afterwards gaveit away to a friendly chief, who was immensely proud of it.

In making for the shores of the big lagoon we had to traverse someextremely difficult country. In the first place, we encountered aseries of very broken ridges, which in parts proved so hard totravel over that I almost gave up in despair. At times there wasnothing for it but to carry on my back the poor, feeble creaturewho, I felt, was now intrusted to my charge and keeping. Iremember that native chiefs frequently suggested that I shouldleave him, but I never listened to this advice for a moment.Perhaps I was not altogether disinterested, because already mydemented companion was looked upon as a kind of minor deity by thenatives. I may here remark that I only knew two idiots during thewhole of my sojourn. One of these had fallen from a tree through abranch breaking, and he was actually maintained at the expense ofthe tribe, revered by all, if not actually worshipped.

But the journey I was just describing was a fearful trial.Sometimes we had to traverse a wilderness of rocks which stoodstraight up and projected at sharp angles, presenting at a distancethe appearance of a series of stony terraces which were all butimpassable. For a long time our charge wore both shirt andtrousers, but eventually we had to discard the latter--or perhapsit would be more correct to say, that the garment was literallytorn to shreds by the spinifex. At one time I had it in my mind tomake him go naked like myself, but on consideration I thought itadvisable to allow him to retain his shirt, at any rate for a time,as his skin was not so inured to the burning sun as my own.

We had to provide him with food, which he accepted, of course,without gratitude. Then Yamba had always to build him a shelterwherever we camped, so that far from being an invaluable assistanceand a companion he was a burden--so great that, in moments ofdepression, I regretted not having left him to die. As it was, hewould often have gone to his death in the great deserts were it notfor the ever-vigilant Bruno. Still, I always thought that some dayI would be able to take the man back to civilisation, and therefind out who he was and whence he had come. And I hoped thatpeople would think I had been kind to him. At first I thought theunfortunate man was suffering from sunstroke, and that in course oftime he would regain his reason. I knew I could do very littletowards his recovery except by feeding him well. Fortunately thenatives never called upon him to demonstrate before them theextraordinary powers which I attributed to him. Indeed his strangegestures, antics, and babblings were sufficient in themselves toconvince the blacks that he was a creature to be reverenced. Theremarkable thing about him was that he never seemed to take noticeof any one, whether it were myself, Yamba, or a native chief. As arule, his glance would "go past me," so to speak, and he was forever wandering aimlessly about, chattering and gesticulating.

We placed no restrictions upon him, and supplied all his wants,giving him Bruno as a guide and protector. I must say that Yambadid not like the stranger, but for my sake she was wonderfullypatient with him.

It was whilst living on the shores of this lagoon that I received avery extraordinary commission from a neighbouring tribe. Not longafter my arrival I heard a curious legend, to the effect that awayon the other side of the lagoon there was an "evil spirit"infesting the waters, which terrified the women when they went downto fill their skins. Well, naturally enough, the fame of the whiteman and his doings soon got abroad in that country, and I was oneday invited by the tribe in question to go and rid them of the evilspirit. Accordingly, accompanied by Yamba, and leaving Bruno tolook after our helpless companion, we set off in response to theinvitation, and in a few days reached the camp of the blacks whohad sent for me. The lagoon was here surrounded by a finely-woodedcountry, slightly mountainous. Perhaps I ought to have stated thatI had already gleaned from the mail-men, or runners, who had beensent with the message, that the waters of the lagoon in thevicinity of the camp had long been disturbed by some huge fish ormonster, whose vagaries were a constant source of terror. Thedreaded creature would come quite close inshore, and then endeavourto "spear" the women with what was described as a long weaponcarried in its mouth. This, then, was the evil spirit of thelagoon, and I confess it puzzled me greatly. I thought it probablethat it was merely a large fish which had descended in a rain-cloudamong countless millions of others of smaller species. I lookedupon the commission, however, as a good opportunity for displayingmy powers and impressing the natives in that country--I always hadthe utmost confidence in myself. Before setting out I had spentsome little time in completing my preparations for the capture ofthe strange monster.

The very afternoon I arrived I went down to the shores of thelagoon with all the natives, and had not long to wait before Ibeheld what was apparently a huge fish careering wildly anderratically hither and thither in the water. On seeing it thenatives appeared tremendously excited, and they danced and yelled,hoping thereby to drive the creature away. My first move was inthe nature of an experiment--merely with the object of getting abetter view of the monster. I endeavoured to angle for it with ahook made out of a large piece of sharpened bone. I then producedlarge nets made out of strips of green hide and stringy-bark rope.Placing these on the shores of the lagoon, I directed Yamba tobuild a little bark canoe just big enough to hold her and me.

At length we embarked and paddled out a few hundred yards, when wethrew the net overboard. It had previously been weighted, and nowfloated so that it promptly expanded to its utmost capacity. Nosooner had we done this than the invisible monster charged downupon us, making a tremendous commotion in the water. Neither Yambanor I waited for the coming impact, but threw ourselves overboardjust as the creature's white sawlike weapon showed itself close tothe surface only a few yards away. We heard a crash, and then,looking backward as we swam, saw that the long snout of the fishhad actually pierced both sides of the canoe, whilst his body wasevidently entangled in the meshes of the net. So desperate hadbeen the charge that our little craft was now actually a seriousencumbrance to the monster. It struggled madly to free itself,leaping almost clear of the water and lashing the placid lagooninto a perfect maelstrom.

Several times the canoe was lifted high out of the water; and thenthe fish would try to drag it underneath, but was prevented by itsgreat buoyancy. In the meantime Yamba and I swam safely ashore,and watched the struggles of the "evil spirit" from the shore,among a crowd of frantic natives.

We waited until the efforts of the fish grew feebler, and then putoff in another bark canoe (the celerity with which Yamba made onewas something amazing), when I easily despatched the now weakenedcreature with my tomahawk. I might here mention that this wasactually the first time that these inland savages had seen a canoeor boat of any description, so that naturally the two I launchedoccasioned endless amazement.

Afterwards, by the way, I tried to describe to them what the seawas like, but had to give it up, because it only confused them, andwas quite beyond their comprehension. When we dragged the monsterashore, with its elongated snout still embedded in the littlecanoe, I saw at a glance that the long-dreaded evil spirit of thelagoon was a huge sawfish, fully fourteen feet long, its formidablesaw alone measuring nearly five feet. This interesting weapon Iclaimed as a trophy, and when I got back to where Bruno and hishuman charge were, I exhibited it to crowds of admiring blacks, whohad long heard of the evil spirit. The great fish itself wascooked and eaten at one of the biggest corroborees I had ever seen.The blacks had no theory of their own (save the superstitious one),as to how it got into the lagoon; and the only supposition I canoffer is, that it must have been brought thither, when very smalland young, either by a rain-cloud or at some unusually big floodtime.

So delighted were the blacks at the service I had done them, thatthey paid me the greatest compliment in their power by offering mea chieftainship, and inviting me to stay with them for ever. Irefused the flattering offer, however, as I was quite bent ongetting back to Cambridge Gulf.

On returning to my friends on the other side of the lagoon Ilearned for the first time that there was a half-caste girl livingamong them; and subsequent inquiries went to prove that her fatherwas a white man who had penetrated into these regions and lived forsome little time at least among the blacks--much as I myself wasdoing. My interest in the matter was first of all roused by theaccidental discovery of a cairn five feet or six feet high, made ofloose flat stones. My experience was such by this time that I sawat a glance this cairn was not the work of a native. Drawings andfigures, and a variety of curious characters, were faintlydiscernible on some of the stones, but were not distinct enough tobe legible.

On one, however, I distinctly traced the initials "L. L.," whichhad withstood the ravages of time because the stone containing themwas in a protected place.

Naturally the existence of this structure set me inquiring amongthe older natives as to whether they ever remembered seeing a whiteman before; and then I learned that perhaps twenty years previouslya man like myself HAD made his appearance in those regions, and haddied a few months afterwards, before the wife who, according tocustom, was allotted to him had given birth to the half-caste babygirl, who was now a woman before me. They never knew the whitestranger's name, nor where he had come from. The girl, by the way,was by no means good-looking, and her skin was decidedly more blackthan white; I could tell by her hand, however, that she was a half-caste.

On the strength of our supposed affinity, she was offered to me asa wife, and I accepted her, more as a help for Yamba than anythingelse; she was called Luigi. Yamba, by the way, was anxious that Ishould possess at least half-a-dozen wives, partly because thiscircumstance would be more in keeping with my rank; but I did notfall in with the idea. I had quite enough to do already tomaintain my authority among the tribe at large, and did not care tohave to rule in addition half-a-dozen women in my ownestablishment. This tribe always lingers in my memory, on accountof the half-caste girl, whom I now believe to have been thedaughter of Ludwig Leichhardt, the lost Australian explorer. Mr.Giles says: "Ludwig Leichhardt was a surgeon and botanist, whosuccessfully conducted an expedition from Moreton Bay to PortEssington, on the northern coast. A military and penal settlementhad been established at Port Essington by the Government of NewSouth Wales, to which colony the whole territory then belonged. Atthis settlement--the only point of relief after eighteen months'travel--Leichhardt and his exhausted party arrived.

"Of Leichhardt's sad fate, in the interior of Australia, no certaintidings have ever been heard. I, who have wandered into andreturned alive from the curious regions he attempted and died toexplore, have unfortunately never come across a single record, norany remains or traces of the party."

Leichhardt started on his last sad venture with a party of eight,including one or two native black-boys. They had with them abouttwenty head of bullocks broken in to carry pack loads. "My firstand second expeditions," says Giles, "were conducted entirely withhorses, but in all subsequent journeys I was accompanied bycamels." His object, like that of Leichhardt, was to force his wayacross the thousand miles of country that lay untrodden and unknownbetween the Australian telegraph line and the settlements upon theSwan River. And Giles remarks that the exploration of 1000 milesin Australia is equal to at least 10,000 miles on any other part ofthe earth's surface--always excepting the Poles.

I continued residing on the shores of the lagoon in the hope thatmy patient would eventually get better, when I proposed continuingmy journey north. I was still quite unable to understand hisbabblings, although he was for ever mentioning the names of personsand places unknown to me; and he constantly spoke about someexploring party. He never asked me questions, nor did he get intoserious trouble with the natives, being privileged. He neverdeveloped any dangerous vices, but was simply childlike andimbecile.

Gradually I had noticed that, instead of becoming stronger, he wasfading away. He was constantly troubled with a most distressingcomplaint, and in addition to this he would be seized with fits ofdepression, when he would remain in his hut for days at a timewithout venturing out. I always knew what was the matter with himwhen he was not to be seen. Sometimes I would go in to try andcheer him up, but usually it was a hopeless effort on my part.

Of course he had a wife given him, and this young person seemed toconsider him quite an ordinary specimen of the white man. Indeed,she was vastly flattered, rather than otherwise, by the attentionslavished upon her husband by her people. One reason for thistreatment was that she was considered a privileged person to berelated in any way to one whom the natives regarded as almost ademi-god. She looked after him too, and kept his hut as clean aspossible. One morning something happened. The girl came runningfor me to go to her hut, and there lay the mysterious strangerapparently stretched out for dead. I soon realised that he was ina fit of some kind.

I now approach the momentous time when this unfortunate manrecovered his senses. When he regained consciousness after the fitYamba and I were with him, and so was his wife. I had not seen himfor some days, and was much shocked at the change that had takenplace. He was ghastly pale and very much emaciated. I knew thatdeath was at hand. Just as he regained consciousness--I can seethe picture now; yes, we were all around his fragrant couch ofeucalyptus leaves, waiting for him to open his eyes--he gazed at mein a way that thrilled me strangely, and I KNEW I WAS LOOKING AT ASANE WHITE MAN. His first questions were "Where am I? Who areyou?" Eager and trembling I knelt down beside him and told him thelong and strange story of how I had found him, and how he had nowbeen living with me nearly two years. I pointed out to him ourfaithful Bruno, who had often taken him for long walks and broughthim back safely, and who had so frequently driven away from himdeadly snakes, and warned him when it was time to turn back. Itold him he was in the centre of Australia; and then I told inbrief my own extraordinary story. I sent Yamba to our shelter forthe letter I had found in his tracks, and read it aloud to him. Henever told me who the writer of it was. He listened to all I hadto tell him with an expression of amazement, which soon gave placeto one of weariness--the weariness of utter weakness. He asked meto carry him outside into the sun, and I did so, afterwardssquatting down beside him and opening up another conversation. HETHEN TOLD ME HIS NAME WAS GIBSON, AND THAT HE HAD BEEN A MEMBER OFTHE GILES EXPEDITION OF 1874. From that moment I never left himnight or day. He told me much about that expedition which I cannever reveal, for I do not know whether he was lying or raving.Poor, vulgar, Cockney Gibson! He seemed to know full well that hewas dying, and the thought seemed to please him rather thanotherwise. He appeared to me to be too tired, too weary to live--that was the predominant symptom.

I introduced Yamba to him, and we did everything we possibly couldto cheer him, but he gradually sank lower and lower. I would say,"Cheer up, Gibson. Why, when you are able to walk we will maketracks straightway for civilisation. I am sure you know the way,for now you are as right as I am." But nothing interested thedying man. Shortly before the end his eyes assumed a strainedlook, and I could see he was rapidly going. The thought of hisapproaching end was to me a relief; it would be untrue if I were tosay otherwise. For weeks past I had seen that the man could notlive, and considering that every day brought its battle for life,you will readily understand that this poor helpless creature was aterrible burden to me. He had such a tender skin that at all timesI was obliged to keep him clothed. For some little time his oldshirt and trousers did duty, but at length I was compelled to makehim a suit of skins. Of course, we had no soap with which to washhis garments, but we used to clean them after a fashion by dumpingthem down into a kind of greasy mud and then trampling on them,afterwards rinsing them out in water. Moreover, his feet were sotender that I always had to keep him shod with skin sandals.

His deathbed was a dramatic scene--especially under thecircumstances. Poor Gibson! To think that he should have escapeddeath after those fearful waterless days and nights in the desert,to live for two years with a white protector, and yet then die of awasting and distressing disease!

He spent the whole day in the open air, for he was very much betterwhen in the sun. At night I carried him back into his hut, andlaid him in the hammock which I had long ago slung for him. Yambaknew he was dying even before I did, but she could do nothing.

We tried the effect of the curious herb called "pitchori," but itdid not revive him. "Pitchori," by the way, is a kind of leafwhich the natives chew in moments of depression; it has anexhilarating effect upon them.

On the last day I once more made up a bed of eucalyptus leaves andrugs on the floor of Gibson's hut. Surrounding him at the lastwere his wife--a very good and faithful girl--Yamba, myself, andBruno--who, by the way, knew perfectly well that his friend wasdying. He kept licking poor Gibson's hand and chest, and thenfinding no response would nestle up close to him for half-an-hourat a time. Then the affectionate creature would retire outside andset up a series of low, melancholy howls, only to run in again withhope renewed.

Poor Gibson! The women-folk were particularly attached to himbecause he never went out with the men, or with me, on my variousexcursions, but remained behind in their charge. Sometimes,however, he would follow at our heels as faithfully andinstinctively as Bruno himself. For the past two years Bruno andGibson had been inseparable, sleeping together at night, and neverparting for a moment the whole day long. Indeed, I am sure Brunobecame more attached to Gibson than he was to me. And so Gibsondid not, as I at one time feared he would, pass away into the GreatBeyond, carrying with him the secret of his identity. Looking athim as he lay back among the eucalyptus leaves, pale and emaciated,I knew the end was now very near.

I knelt beside him holding his hand, and at length, with a greateffort, he turned towards me and said feebly, "Can you hearanything?" I listened intently, and at last was compelled to replythat I did not. "Well," he said, "I hear some one talking. Ithink the voices of my friends are calling me." I fancied that thepoor fellow was wandering in his mind again, but still his eyes didnot seem to have that vacant gaze I had previously noticed in them.He was looking steadily at me, and seemed to divine my thoughts,for he smiled sadly and said, "No, I know what I am saying. I canhear them singing, and they are calling me away. They have comefor me at last!" His thin face brightened up with a slow, sadsmile, which soon faded away, and then, giving my hand a slightpressure, he whispered almost in my ear, as I bent over him, "Good-bye, comrade, I'm off. You will come too, some day." A slightshiver, and Gibson passed peacefully away.

After the funeral his wife followed out the usual nativeconventions. She covered herself with pipeclay for about onemonth. She also mourned and howled for the prescribed three days,and gashed her head with stone knives, until the blood poured downher face. Gibson's body was not buried in the earth, but embalmedwith clay and leaves, and laid on a rock-shelf in a cave.

The general belief was that Gibson had merely gone back to theSpirit Land from whence he had come, and that, as he was a greatand good man, he would return to earth in the form of a bird--perhaps an ibis, which was very high indeed. I must say I neverattached very much importance to what he said, even in his sanemoments, because he was obviously a man of low intelligence and noculture. If I remember rightly, he told me that the expedition towhich he was attached left Adelaide with the object of goingoverland to Fremantle. It was thoroughly well equipped, and for along time everything went well with the party. One day, whilstsome of them were off exploring on their own account, he losthimself.

He rather thought that the sun must have affected his brain eventhen, because he didn't try to find his companions that night, butwent to sleep quite contentedly under a tree. He realised thehorror of his position keenly enough the next morning, however, androde mile after mile without halting for food or water, in the hopeof quickly regaining his friends at the chief camp. But nightstole down upon him once more, and he was still a lonely wanderer,half delirious with thirst; the supply he had carried with him hadlong since given out.

Next morning, when he roused himself, he found that his horse hadwandered away and got lost. After this he had only a vaguerecollection of what happened. Prompted by some strange,unaccountable impulse, he set out on a hopeless search for water,and went walking on and on until all recollection faded away, andhe remembered no more. How long he had been lost when I found himhe could not say, because he knew absolutely nothing whatever abouthis rescue. So far as I remember, he was a typical specimen of theAustralian pioneer--a man of fine physique, with a full beard and afrank, but unintelligent, countenance. He was perhaps five feetnine inches in height, and about thirty years of age. When I toldhim the story of my adventures he was full of earnest sympathy forme, and told me that if ever I intended leaving those regions forcivilisation again, my best plan would be to steer more south-east,as it was in that direction that Adelaide lay.

He also informed me that the great trans-Continental telegraph wirewas being constructed from north to south. This he advised me tostrike and follow to civilisation.

I may be permitted a little digression here to give a few extractsfrom Giles's book, "Australia Twice Traversed" (Sampson Low &Company), for this contains the version of the leader of theexpedition himself as to the circumstances under which Gibson waslost. In all, it seems, Giles made five exploring expeditions intoand through Central South Australia and Western Australia from 1872to 1876. Speaking of his second expedition, Mr. Giles says: "Ihad informed my friend, Baron Von Mueller, by wire from theCharlotte Waters Telegraph station, of the failure and break-up ofmy first expedition, and he set to work and obtained new funds forme to continue my labours. I reached Adelaide late in January1873, and got my party together. We left early in March of 1873,and journeyed leisurely up-country to Beltana, then past the FinnisSprings to the Gregory. We then journeyed up to the Peake, wherewe were welcomed by Messrs. Bagot at the Cattle Station, and Mr.Blood of the Telegraph Department. Here we fixed up all our packs,sold Bagot the waggon, and bought horses and other things. We nowhad twenty pack-horses and four riding-horses."

We next come to the introduction of Gibson. "Here a short youngman accosted me, and asked me if I didn't remember him. He said hewas 'Alf.' I thought I knew his face, but I thought it was at thePeake that I had seen him; but he said, 'Oh, no! Don't youremember Alf, with Bagot's sheep at the north-west bend of theMurray? My name's Alf Gibson, and I want to go out with you.' Isaid, 'Well, can you shoe? Can you ride? Can you starve? Can yougo without water? And how would you like to be speared by theblacks?' He said he could do everything I had mentioned, and hewasn't afraid of the blacks. He was not a man I would have pickedout of a mob, but men were scarce, and he seemed so anxious tocome, so I agreed to take him.

"Thus, the expedition consisted of four persons--myself (ErnestGiles), Mr. William Henry Tietkins, Alf Gibson, and James Andrews;with twenty-four horses and two little dogs. On Monday, 4thAugust, we finally left the encampment."

Now here is the passage in which Mr. Giles describes his dramaticparting with Gibson. It will be found in the chapter marked "20thApril to 21st May 1874": "Gibson and I departed for the West. Irode the 'Fair Maid of Perth.' I gave Gibson the big amblinghorse, 'Badger,' and we packed the big cob with a pair of water-bags that contained twenty gallons. As we rode away, I was tellingGibson about various exploring expeditions and their fate, and hesaid, 'How is it that, in all these exploring expeditions, a lot ofpeople go and die?' He said, 'I shouldn't like to die in this partof the country, anyhow.'

"We presently had a meal of smoked horse. It was late when weencamped, and the horses were much in want of water,--especiallythe big cob, who kept coming up to the camp all night and trying toget at our water-bags. We had one small water-bag hung in a tree.

"I didn't think of that until my mare came straight up to it andtook it in her teeth, forcing out the cork, and sending the waterup, which we were both dying to drink, in a beautiful jet. Gibsonwas now very sorry he had exchanged 'Badger' for the cob, as hefound the latter very dull and heavy to get along. There had beena hot wind from the north all day, and the following morning (the23rd of April), there was a most strange dampness in the air, and Ihad a vague feeling, such as must have been felt by augurs andseers of old, who trembled as they told events to come; FOR THISWAS THE LAST DAY ON WHICH I EVER SAW GIBSON.

"As Gibson came along after me, he called out that his horse wasgoing to die. The hills to the west were twenty-five to thirtymiles away, and I had to give up trying to reach them. How Ilonged for a camel! Gibson's horse was now so bad as to place bothof us in a great dilemma. We turned back in our tracks, when thecob refused to carry his rider any farther, and tried to lie down.We drove him another mile on foot, and down he fell to die. Mymare, the 'Fair Maid of Perth,' was only too willing to return, butshe had now to carry Gibson's saddle and things, and away we went,walking and riding in turns of one half-hour each.

"When we got back to about thirty miles from a place which I hadnamed 'The Kegs,' I shouted to Gibson, who was riding, to stopuntil I walked up to him. By this time we had hardly a pint ofwater left between us.

"We here finished the supply, and I then said, as I could not speakbefore, 'Look here, Gibson, you see we are in a most terrible fix,with only one horse. Only one can ride, and one must remainbehind. I shall remain; and now listen to me. If the mare doesnot get water soon, she will die; therefore, ride right on; get tothe Kegs, if possible, to-night, and give her water. Now that thecob is dead, there'll be all the more water for her. Early to-morrow you will sight the Rawlinson, at twenty-five miles from theKegs. Stick to the tracks and never leave them. Leave as muchwater in one keg for me as you can afford, after watering the mareand filling up your own bags; and, remember, I depend upon you tobring me relief.'

"Gibson said if he had a compass he thought he could go better bynight. I knew he didn't understand anything about compasses, as Ihad often tried to explain them to him. The one I had was aGregory's Patent, of a totally different construction from ordinaryinstruments of the kind, and I was loth to part with it, as it wasthe only one I had. However, as he was so anxious for it, I gaveit to him, and away he went. I sent one final shout after him tostick to the tracks, and he said, 'All right' and the mare carriedhim out of sight almost instantly.

"Gibson had left me with a little over two gallons of water, whichI could have drunk in half-an-hour. All the food I had was elevensticks of dirty, sandy, smoked horse, averaging about an ounce anda half each.

"On the first of May, as I afterwards found out, at one o'clock inthe morning, I staggered into the camp, and awoke Mr. Tietkins atdaylight. He glared at me as if I had been one risen from thedead. I asked him if he had seen Gibson. It was nine days since Ilast saw him. The next thing was to find Gibson's remains. It wasthe 6th of May when we got back to where he had left the rightline. As long as he had remained on the other horses' tracks itwas practicable enough to follow him, but the wretched man had leftthem and gone away in a far more southerly direction, having themost difficult sand-hills to cross at right angles. We found hehad burnt a patch of spinifex where he had left the other horses'tracks.

"Whether he had made any mistake in steering by the compass or notit is impossible to say; but instead of going east, as he shouldhave done, he actually went south, or very near it.

"I was sorry to think that the unfortunate man's last sensiblemoments must have been embittered by the thought that, as he hadlost himself in the capacity of messenger for my relief, I, too,must necessarily fall a victim to his mishap.

"I called this terrible region, lying between the Rawlinson Rangeand the next permanent water that may eventually be found to thenorth, 'Gibson's Desert,'--after this first white victim to itshorrors.

"In looking over Gibson's few effects, Mr. Tietkins and I found anold pocket-book, a drinking-song, and a certificate of hismarriage. He had never told us he was married."

And now to resume my own narrative. You will remember that I hadsettled down for a considerable time on the shores of the lagoon,where I had made everything around me as comfortable as possible.Yamba had no difficulty whatever in keeping us well supplied withroots and vegetables; and as kangaroos, opossums, snakes, and ratsabounded, we had an ample supply of meat, and the lagoon couldalways be relied upon to provide us with excellent fish. Thecountry itself was beautiful in the extreme, with statelymountains, broad, fertile valleys, extensive forests,--and, aboveall, plenty of water. The general mode of living among the nativeswas much the same as that prevailing among the blacks in my ownhome at Cambridge Gulf,--although these latter were a vastly